


Justin 510 gapfiller

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Gap Filler, No Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: I've written two 510 gap-fillers that cover the same time period, and basically have the same plotline, but one is told from Brian's perspective and the other is told from Justin's. Beyond that, these gap-fillers are NOT connected in any way- I simply had two different ways I wanted to tell this story. One was written many months ago, after I'd been spoiled to 510, and the other was written more recently after I'd actually seen a small part of a 510 screener. I vacillated back and forth as to which I would post and finally decided to post them both. Obviously, there are spoilers through 510.





	Justin 510 gapfiller

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin POV

He pulled me aside while we were sitting in the hallway at the hospital waiting to hear news about Michael's condition. The ER doctors had checked me out and stamped me healthy except for some minor scrapes, bruises and smoke inhalation, and we'd been sitting here, restless and anxious, for more than an hour with no word.

Drawing me gently down the hallway and away from everyone nervously fluttering around Debbie and Hunter, he studied my face for several long moments, as if he was convincing himself that I was, in fact, uninjured.

"What will it take for you to come home?" he asked, finally. "For good?"

"More than I think you'd be willing to give," I replied sadly. I squeezed his arm soothingly and palmed his cheek to let him know I wasn't angry. I was there for him, and for Deb, and really, for myself too, because Mikey and I had become friends while he and I were still pissed with Brian. But he had more on his mind right now and didn't need added grief from me. 

He'd told me he loved me, finally, and I believed him. But I wasn't a child anymore. I knew now that love wasn't always enough; it wouldn't fix everything that was wrong with us.

I turned back to Debbie, wanting to sit with her and offer what comfort I could, but Brian tugged at my arm and when I looked at him, his eyes were almost... yes, there's no question about it... he was begging me, silently, not to walk away from him again. My heart broke.

"Tell me," he urged quietly.

Could he hear it? Was he ready? Probably not. He was in shock and reacting through that lens, but as soon as he heard everything I needed to say to him, he'd come to his senses.

"For starters, I have to be able to tell you anything I'm feeling. Not just right now, tonight, when you're in the mood to listen, but whenever I need to."

He nodded.

"What else?"

"I need you to tell me what _you're_ feeling. Not every minute, but at least sometimes." I watched his face carefully for his reaction, but instead of the dismissive smirk I expected, his eyes, while troubled, were clear and attentive, and his face was soft and open. 

"And you can't keep pushing me away," I continued on, gathering speed. "A part of me dies every time you do. I can't take it anymore- the uncertainty of never knowing where I'm going to sleep, whether or not I have a relationship, when the next shoe will drop and I'll be homeless again. I won't live like that another day, Brian, it isn't fair to me. I deserve better."

He nodded once more. 

"You do, Justin," he admitted quietly, "you always have." I could detect no hint of sarcasm or uncertainty in him. "What else?"

I took a deep breath. This one would be the deal breaker, but I'd always known that and now, after all these years, I was ready to accept it and go home alone to my shitty little apartment- for good.

"I can't handle your tricking anymore. It would have to stop."

For the third time, he nodded, as if it was nothing. As if I'd asked him for a glass of water. As if just by nodding, he could make it so. 

"Ok," he agreed, "I'll stop."

I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Brian, you could never do that. You wouldn't. Not for me, not for anyone."

"You're wrong," he said and I was momentarily stunned, and almost convinced, by the determination in his voice. "If I say I won't trick, I mean it. I've never lied to you."

Now I _did_ laugh.

"You've been lying to me since the day we met, Brian." His eyes got large and he opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. 

"How many times have you told me that we're not in a relationship? How many times have you said you don't love me?"

His jaw set tightly. He bowed his head, dropping his gaze to the floor before looking at me again. 

"You've lied, too." 

I knew it hurt him, the fact that I didn't trust him as I once had, but if I was going to expect honesty from him, I had to be willing to give it, too. 

"Yeah, I have," I admitted painfully. "Maybe neither of us is so terrific at that."

I couldn't take my eyes off his face. I watched pain and acknowledgement and remorse dominate his features each in their own turn, until he finally came back around to determination again. 

He looked up at me, his gaze steady.

"I'm not lying about this." 

I couldn't decide right at that moment if he was telling the truth or if it was just a thing he wanted us both to believe but couldn't fulfill, but I was spared from making that choice by Ben and the ER doctor appearing from the exam room Michael was housed in.

"Mrs. Novotny, I'm Dr. Miles. Let me explain your son's injuries and what we're doing to treat him..."

**~*~**

Brian sat slumped in a gaudy plastic orange chair in the noisy and bustling ER waiting room. After hearing the good news and the bad, and learning that Michael would recover fully, in time, he had kissed Deb's cheek, laid a reassuring hand on Ben's arm and murmured words of concern and support to both of them. Then he'd slung an arm over my shoulders, leaned on me tiredly and asked me to walk with him.

We'd wound up here where family members of the other victims of tonight's bombing waited anxiously. People wept quietly, tired babies screamed and hospital staff and security scurried back and forth, trying to shield the families from the growing press corps outside.

None of this seemed to penetrate Brain's exhaustion and grief. His hand gripped mine tightly, but he hadn't spoken a word to me or anyone else since leaving Deb and Ben.

Finally, understanding that his reserves were gone and that mine were quickly fading, I stood.

"Come on, Brian, I'll take you home."

He squeezed my hand and gazed up at me, looking more lost than I had ever seen him. I was shaken by the insecurity and fear I saw in his eyes.

"Will you come with me?" he asked.

This was new to me- Brian, openly and without shame, needing me. If I really was seriously thinking of taking him back, this was exactly the kind of behavior I wanted to encourage and shutting him down now could tip the balance in the other direction, make him retreat again in fear of further rejection.

And I missed him. Missed having him close at night as I slept, hearing him mumble though his dreams, feeling him pressed against me in the morning. How many nights had I lain awake in my own lonely apartment fantasizing about him needing _me_?

I nodded my agreement and he stood, handing me his keys and walking silently towards the exit.

**~*~**

Arriving at the loft, we had headed, without the need for discussion, to the shower. We soaped one another quietly, washing away the grime and panic, stealing kisses and holding tight to one another, and then collapsed into the bed where we made slow, grateful love until we were too weary to move.

There would be nightmares, more than enough to go around after tonight's explosion at Babylon, and I knew that Brian and I would be amongst those who suffered through them. Later, my dreams would center around confusion and smoke and the need to escape a fire that scorched me. Brian never discussed his dreams with me, but knowing him as I did, I had a fair idea of what they probably involved.

But right now he was pressed against me, his face buried in my shoulder, here in the bed I had shared with him on so many other nights. This room, these sheets and pillows, all felt like home, although too much had happened tonight to decide what our next move might be. When the shock wore off, when I could think clearly again, that would be the time to consider the conversation Brian and I had had this evening.

He was muttering something into my neck and trembling hard, bringing me back into the moment, and all I could do was cling to him until he could breathe again and let me hear the words he was pressing into my skin. I knew one thing: for the first time in my life, I felt Brian Kinney's tears on my flesh.

"Brian," I soothed, "what is it?"

He shook his head, shuddering, his hands gripping me tightly, his intensity frightening me almost as much as his tears. 

"Please," I pleaded, "tell me."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, pressing his lips against my ear. 

"Justin."

I waited.

"Justin," he said again, "don't you _dare._ "

"What, Brian?" He had never let me see him this vulnerable before.

"Don't you die and leave me here without you, don't you fucking dare."

Oh god.

I clutched him tighter; it was the only comfort I could offer him. 

Yes, there would be more than enough nightmares to go around.


End file.
